Guardianship
by inspirationassaulted
Summary: HPDM, Post-Hogwarts: Draco chooses to live under custody of Harry Potter for two years instead of Azkaban. Lord Potter has secrets, possibly more than Draco will ever know. Can they find happiness in the same house, or will the past and the secrets destroy them both?
1. Chapter 1

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy. You heard the sentence as well as I did. Unless you can find a member of the Order of the Phoenix who is willing to take custody of you for the next two years, you'll have to spend that time in Azkaban. There's simply no way around it."

Draco stared down at his hands, frustrated. Oh, he knew Minister Shacklebolt wished he could help, but his hands were tied.

"Minister, there must be somethingyou could do. House arrest, maybe? No wand, forbidden to leave the grounds of the Manor? Please, if I go to Azkaban, I'll…I don't think I would make it out." It went against everything Draco had been taught to admit a weakness, but he was pleading for his life here. If the other prisoners didn't kill him for being a blood traitor, the Dementors would surely drive him far past the brink of insanity, where he teetered now. Either way, it was really a one-way ticket.

Draco looked up to meet the Minister's kind eyes. Shacklebolt was frowning in thought. The silence stretched for a moment before he seemed to come to a conclusion.

"I'm afraid I can't do that for you, Mr. Malfoy. Your mother is restricted to the Manor, and you're not permitted to have contact with your parents for the two year period except for Christmas. The most I can do is give you a few days to see if anyone would be willing to be your custodian. Auror Robards will fit you with a tracking cuff. If you can't find anyone within five days, we'll have to bring you in again and process you for Azkaban." Draco nodded in understanding. He thought the older man looked sad. Draco knew Minister Shacklebolt was fair, and he truly believed in the testimony Potter had given at the Malfoy family trial.

Potter. There was an idea. If Potter had believed in the change in Draco enough to speak at the trial, maybe he would be willing to take him in, too. After all, only Potter's testimony had kept the Malfoys from a family cell in the wizarding prison. In fact, Potter was the reason his mother, kind, broken Narcissa, was spared from Azkaban entirely, only restricted to the last remaining family property, Malfoy Manor. Yes, he would owl Potter.

"Very well, Minister. I understand. Thank you for everything have done."

Draco paid no attention to Gawain Robards as he fit the soft, flexible cuff to his wrist, so close that even the thinnest knife blade could not go between his skin and the grey metal. He was far too busy thinking about his plans, how to word his letter to Potter in a way that was most likely to catch Potter's attention.

-0-

Harry woke with a start when Kreacher knocked gently on his door. He sighed as he moved to open it. It had taken a week, early in the summer, to get the elf to stop popping into his room each morning, but after many curses and several knives thrown by a half asleep and startled Harry, they had agreed on knocking each morning.

"Master is to be waking up now. It is morning and Master has a special letter." The wizened elf handed Harry a sealed envelope. The only letters Harry read anymore came from people in his year at Hogwarts, the Weasleys (though Ron always brought those with him on his visits), members of the Order, and a select few others. Anything else was deemed "fan mail" and cheerfully burned by Kreacher.

"Thank you Kreacher. Are the boys awake yet?"

"Yes, Master. Winky gave them breakfast. They is waiting in the library."

"Very well, Kreacher. You may go." Kreacher popped away to clean the house, or whatever other tasks he did during the day when Harry didn't need him. Harry had never known what those were.

He turned his attention to the letter in his hands. The parchment was high quality, smooth, the dark green ink standing out starkly on the pale background. The handwriting was neat and well formed. Someone with money, then, to have training in proper penmanship. He turned it over to inspect the seal pressed into the pale grey wax. A crest. A titled family, like his, then. Slytherin colors, of course. Most of the heirs to the noble houses were sorted into Slytherin. There had been several in his year at school, not that he had known then. Most of his learning had come from his year of solitude and self-study in the year following the Battle.

Satisfied he had learned everything he could from the envelope, he opened it to find out just _why _a Slytherin was writing to him of all people. If it had to do with noble business, surely there were others who would be more willing to help.

**_Harry Potter,_**

**_You must be wondering why I am writing to you. I confess, I am wondering that myself and have come to the conclusion that there is no one else I can ask for this favor._**

**_As it is a large favor, I would very much wish to speak with you in person about it. You need not fear that I will harm you or seek revenge, as I believe you still hold custody of my wand. I promise you I have no desire to trick or attack you._**

**_If you believe me, please come to the Manor sometime before Sunday. I am always there._**

**_Sincerely,_**

**_Draco Malfoy_**

**_Heir, House of Malfoy_**

Harry stared at the letter. What did Malfoy want from him? He wondered at the greeting for a moment before he remembered that Malfoy had been held awaiting trial when he had become titled and so wouldn't have realized that was no longer the correct form of address. He continued to stare, lost in thought, until a shout from downstairs brought him back to the present. Hurrying through his routine morning spells, he decided to pay Malfoy a visit that afternoon. He was curious, after all. _Why wait?_ he thought.

-0-

Draco answered the door himself, as Natty was serving tea for his mother. He was surprised Potter had come so quickly. He had expected a wait of several days at least, if not an acerbic reply telling him to sod off, but no, there was Potter, standing on his doorstep, looking like…

Merlin, like a young god.

_No,_ Draco told himself, _stop that. Malfoys do not ogle, it's unbecoming. I can't stare at him like an idiot, I have to seem like a friend and convince him to take me in and "save" me from Azkaban. _So, Draco scraped his jaw off the polished marble floor and let Potter into the entry way before leading him to the parlor where his mother waited with tea, like a proper Malfoy host.

Neither had spoken a word yet. Potter had simply nodded in greeting as Draco had floundered a bit before gesturing to the inside of the house, another surprise for Draco. He had been expecting an angry demand for an immediate explanation. This silent Potter was calm and calculating, very…unPotterish.

His mother stood up in surprise when he let Potter into the parlor, but very quickly collected herself, just as any noble woman should. She held out a hand in greeting.

"Mr. Potter, it is indeed a surprise to see you here, although a nice surprise," she said calmly.

"Lady Malfoy, it is lovely to see you again as well, and under rather better circumstances." Potter gently grasped her offered hand as he bent and kissed it.

Now Draco was truly shocked. When had Potter learned pure-blood manners and the proper forms of noble greetings? He took advantage of the idle small talk his mother was engaging in to study this new Potter.

He looked much the same as he always had, Draco realized. His face, while still sharply defined, had lost some of that gaunt, starving look he had in the Battle. The rest of his body had undergone much the same change, filling out with muscle. He might have even gained a few inches in height, since he stood level with Draco now.

No, it wasn't his appearance that told Draco of drastic change, it was his bearing. He walked softly, and the way he held himself now spoke of patience and confidence. He looked around himself with gaping, noticed everything without being paranoid, and took things in without letting his thoughts play out across his face. This Potter could have been a Slytherin.

And that shocked the hell out of Draco.

His mother made a small noise of surprise, pulling Draco back into the present.

"Oh dear, your ring, I hadn't noticed! Forgive me, I have been addressing you wrongly. It should be Lord Potter, correct?"

_What the hell? _Draco looked at the ring, too. It was a gold band set with a large ruby, most likely engraved with a family crest, though Draco couldn't see which at that angle. The Potters', he guessed. It was unquestionably a noble's ring.

"Yes, I took my titles a few months ago, just after the end of the War. It's quite alright, I had forgotten you hadn't heard." Potter smiled kindly at his mother, barely referencing the time they had been locked away, awaiting trial.

"Titles?" Narcissa asked curiously, the question mirrored in Draco's mind.

"Yes, Potter and Black, with a few others. The goblins informed me that I'm the last scion for several Noble Houses." The faintest hint of bitterness crept into Potter's voice, but his smile stayed polite and charming. "Out of all the names and titles I have, the noble ones are the only I've chosen, and I'm very proud to carry them."

Narcissa smiled. Potter sipped at his tea. Draco wondered if someone had polyjuiced a Slytherin noble to be Potter.

"Charming as it is to speak with you, Lady Malfoy," Potter said, setting his tea down, "I'm afraid your son did ask me here for a reason beyond tea and a pleasant conversation."

"Of course, you and Draco must attend to business, Lord Potter. I think I shall retire to the gardens, and, Draco, you may find me there when your business is through." She rose, as did Draco and Potter. "I hope to see you again, Lord Potter."

"As do I, Lady Malfoy," said Potter, kissing the proffered hand once more and waiting until the door had shut behind her before during to Draco.

"Lord Potter," Draco began before a small chuckle from Potter cut him off.

"Malfoy, don't you think after all we've been through and how long we've known each other, we can dispense with titles?"

-0-

If Harry had still hated Malfoy, still wanted to humiliate him, he would have loved to hear Malfoy call him "Lord Potter," but he didn't anymore. There was too much between them already, they didn't need to add titles. If Malfoy was asking him for help, especially if it was about what Kingsley had told him, anything to make it easier would be welcome.

"Alright, Potter. I asked you to come here for two reasons. First, I want thank you for…for everything you have done for us. Thank you for testifying for my family. It saved my mother from Azkaban. She has to stay here for the next two years, but she can have visitors, and we can be together for Christmas. All of us, even my father, just because of what you said for us." Malfoy looked down, like he was afraid to look Harry in the eye. "Even I only have to spend two years in prison."

"But that's not quite true, is it?" Harry gave a small, knowing smile when Malfoy looked up quickly. "You only have to go if you can't find a member of the Order to take custody of you." He paused, but Malfoy seemed to have gotten lost in his search for words, so he continued on. "It's alright Malfoy, we're not bitter enemies anymore. If you can't find anyone else, I'll take you in. Even if we still hated each other, I would do it and try to be nice, just for your mother. I owe it to her." He smirked. "I already have custody of your wand, might as well have the rest of you too."

Malfoy seemed surprised that everything was going his way after all. Harry knew his past behavior would have made Malfoy expect something entirely different from him, but that was then. Harry was a new person now. He had to be.

"Thank you," Malfoy whispered, unable to meet Harry's eyes again but no less sincere for it.

"There are two…well, I wouldn't call them conditions, but they are things you need to know. First, I will need some help sometimes. I'm really busy and I can't do everything, I'll need you pitch in." Malfoy looked up sharply again.

"What, like housework? I'm not a slave, Potter," he said with that familiar Malfoy sneer that made Harry almost smile with nostalgia.

"No, you're not," Harry answered calmly. "It's not housework or menial labor. That's what Kreacher and Winky are for, and, no offense, but they probably cook a better meal than you could. It's," Harry huffed. "I can't really explain it right now. You'll just have to trust me that it's not humiliating or anything and that you'll understand more when you get there." Malfoy frowned.

"Alright, I guess I can do that. What's the second?"

"There are some questions you can't ask." Harry's voice went harder. "Most you'll know, because they're the same questions I can't ask you, but some you'll be burning to ask and you can't. There are some things that only I know, that I've never told even my closest friends. You'll understand when you see."

Malfoy huffed, obviously confused by Harry's wording, but eventually he nodded.

"Great. I'll go see Kingsley and Gawain this week and get everything sorted. I'll leave you here to spend time with your mother this week, since I'm not allowed to let you contact her. I'll get you and your stuff on Sunday morning." Harry rose and offered his hand to Malfoy. He wondered if the blond was remembering the train during first year too. _This time it's different, _Harry thought. Everything had changed, and all those years had led up to two hands finally grasped in understanding.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco wondered if it was possible to die of surprise. He just might, before his two years with Potter were up.

When Potter had taken him Side-Along from the Manor, Draco had expected to end up outside either a quaint, dilapidated house like the Weasleys' Burrow or another noble manor, given the multiple titles Potter now held. When they landed in park on a thoroughly Muggle street in London, Draco had been guess what:

Surprised.

"Potter, why are we here? These are Muggle houses, it's obvious you don't live here," Draco drawled, turning to him, but Potter was writing something on a scrap of paper with a Muggle pen. When he finish, he thrust it at Draco.

"Here. Read it, then you'll understand."

_The residence of Lord Harridan James Potter can be found at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London_

"Got it memorized?" He took the paper back when Draco nodded. "Now say it again in your head," he said absentmindedly, burning the paper with the flame from some odd silver contraption he flicked open and clicked.

Draco ran through what he had read and watched as Number 12 sprouted from the ground and shouldered its way into place between Number 11 and Number 13.

"Welcome home, I guess," Potter said, brushing ash from his shirt and picking up one of Draco's trunks. "Better get you inside and settled, I've left those two with the elves too long."

Draco wondered distantly if "those two" were Granger and Weasley and why it mattered if they were left with the elves. Perhaps Granger was still going off on her harebrained scheme to free them all and get them to start demanding gold. It would never work.

Potter stopped at the top step to unlock the door with his wand. As soon as it swung open, Draco was assaulted by a wave of noise.

It sounded like children.

Surprise!

Draco could hear a child screaming and an elf trying to calm it down.

"Master Reggie, please don't cry, Master Harry is being back soon, very soon."

Another child was shouting, "Kreacher, where's Daddy? Reggie wants Daddy!"

"Master Harry is coming home soon, Master Teddy, but Kreacher is not knowing when," another elf, Kreacher, he assumed, answered.

All the noise ceased as soon as Potter walked through the door.

Draco though his eyes might pop out of his head.

"Sorry about the welcome. Those two are really attached to me some days and they throw fits, but they can always tell as soon as I'm inside the wards. Merlin, I'll be glad when they stop that."

Draco struggled to find words and articulate them into a question.

"Ch-children?" he finally forced out through his frozen throat.

"Yep," Potter replied, "two boys. Both three years old, but one's five months older than the other. One's actually your cousin, of a sort. Your aunt Andromeda Black Tonks's grandson." Potter's expression looked open and cheerful, but his eyes were very guarded. Draco just nodded, figuring he'd have time to wrap his head around it later. "C'mon, you can meet the boys and I'll get you set up with a room, then I'll explain some of those things I told you about on Tuesday."

And Draco had no choice but to nod dumbly and follow Potter into the hall.

Potter was waiting for Draco in the living room after Draco unpacked, being smothered with hugs and chatter from two overjoyed little boys. One of them was tugging on Potter's arm and talking very fast about his hair while it changed color and length very quickly.

_Ah, that must be the cousin, _Draco thought. He'd heard his Metamorphmagus cousin Nymphadora had had a child with the werewolf Lupin before she died.

The other boy was curled into Potter's side, giggling at the young Metamorphmagus, with Potter's arm wrapped protectively around him. He had the same messy hair as Potter, just as dark, but his was rather curly instead of straight, and bright green eyes like Potter's. When Draco came closer, though, he could see that they weren't exact copies. The green of the boy's eyes was brighter, almost glowing, the same color as the Killing Curse, and there was a ring of bright blue around the edge. The boy looked like Potter's child, but he wasn't the mirror image of his father they way Potter had been.

All three looked up as Draco approached to couch. Potter grinned.

"Boys, this is Draco Malfoy. He's going to be staying with us for a while. Draco's actually your cousin, Teddy. Malfoy, these are the boys, Edward Remus Lupin Potter," Potter gestured to the boy who now had waist-length blue hair, "better known as Teddy, and Regulus Harridan Gaunt Potter," he patted the boy still tucked tightly to his side, "better known as Reggie. Sit, Kreacher's fetching tea, and I'm sure you have questions," he gestured to a chair.

The blue-haired boy, Teddy, jumped up and dragged Draco by the hand to the nearest chair. Just as energetic and welcoming as he'd heard the boy's mother had been, Teddy seemed to have accepted Draco as family already. The other, Reggie, was still giving him a cool, calculating look that unnerved Draco. It looked far too old and hardened for his child's face. After a moment's study, Reggie turned to Potter.

"Is he here 'cause the War?"

-0-

Harry looked into his son's bright, intelligent eyes. He could see Reggie was thinking hard about Malfoy, so the question did shock him like it did the blonde. He gave a small, sad smile.

"Yes, he is."

And Reggie understood not to ask those questions. He was a very perceptive boy. He could tell Malfoy was burning with questions he didn't know if he could ask, so Harry took pity on him.

"Reggie, why don't take Teddy and see if the familiars want to join us for tea?" The boys smiled and jumped up to run off upstairs. Harry turned to Malfoy.

"Don't ask anything yet, just listen. I'm going to explain some about the boys. Not all right now or maybe ever, but some. You live here now, I can't keep the same secrets from you as I do from Ron and Hermione." He took a deep breath and launched into the story.

"By blood, both those boys are my sons and when I die, they'll both receive titles. I was named Teddy's godfather when he was born during the War. When Remus and Dora died, Andromeda took him in, but about a year ago she got sick. She may not recover, so she passed his guardianship to me and told me to blood adopt him as a Potter. He can't claim any titles I received from the Potter line, but he'll get the Black Lordship. He has Black blood, and the title was willed to me by the last true Heir of the House of Black, so it's mine to do as I please with." Harry knew Malfoy, as an Heir to a Noble House himself, would want to know about the titles, since Harry had claimed so many. The rules of the nobility were complex, and every noble scion worked to make sure none of the titles died out. Harry was doing his part by splitting his titles amongst his sons and any other children he might have.

"And Reggie?" Malfoy asked, seeing Harry get a little distracted. "He's definitely a Potter by birth, he looks too much like you to be a blood adoption. Who's his mother?" Harry shot Malfoy a sharp look, causing him to flush a little. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business."

"Reggie is… an unusual case. He has no mother. He was born of ritual, so he has no carrier either. He has three father, as well. Myself, obviously, and Regulus Black, for another. If I have no more sons, he'll get the titles from the Potter line. He could be eligible for the Black title, I guess, but Regulus was a younger son and Andromeda was the eldest daughter. Plus, Reggie will hold the Gaunt titles directly while Teddy won't directly inherit any." Draco looked confused, to put it mildly.

"I thought all the Gaunts died out fifty years ago. Where did he get those titles?"

"Tom," Harry answered simply. The finality of his tone must have convinced Malfoy that it was one of those things he couldn't ask questions about, because he simply nodded and looked away.

Luckily for them, the two boys came rushing back into the room at that moment with their familiars.

"Ah, good boys!" Harry exclaimed, glad to avoid the awkward moment. He was sure there would be plenty more to come in the next two years. "Why don't you introduce Draco to your pets?" Teddy grinned, gesturing a golden wolf cub over to where Malfoy sat.

"This is Romulus, he's my f'miliar," the boy began as the wolf sniffed at Malfoy's hand. He must have determined the blonde to be trustworthy, since a moment later he licked it. "I named him after one of the brothers in the myth, Romulus 'n Remus. Remus was Father's name." He looked sad for a moment, then brightened. "He talks to me. I can hear him in my head. Daddy says it's 'cause I'm part wolf 'cause of Father and we're… what was it, Daddy?"

"Kin, Wolfling," Harry laughed, "and I think it must be, I've never heard of it happening before, but children of werewolves are so rare."

-0-

Draco was astonished. He thought his head might explode from all the new information. How much Potter knew about being a noble, his children (_Potter has kids!_), the mysterious things he wouldn't talk about.

This was not the same Potter he knew at school. Hell, this was not the same Potter who pulled him up onto a broomstick, saving him from the death Draco had sentenced himself to. This Potter laughed and smiled with real joy. This Potter had no weight of a world only he could save on his shoulders. This was a young man, full of life and vitality, whose only challenge was being a single parent to two young children at the age of nineteen.

And Merlin, was it a beautiful sight.

Draco was glad the wolf, Romulus, seemed to approve of him. Even if it was a cub, it still had sharp teeth and a dangerous glint to its eye. When Teddy finished chattering, Reggie, the mysterious one stepped forward, followed by two snakes. The silver one wrapped around his neck and shoulder and turned pure white eyes on Draco.

"This is Tronus," Reggie said shyly. "I named that after Daddy's 'Tronus Charm. He protects me like Daddy, and he talks to me, too. He tells me stories when Daddy's gone, like Daddy does at bedtime." He stroked one of the snake's coils and hissed something in Parseltongue. "Tronus says he trusts you now, but if you do something bad, he'll bite you. He's poison."

Draco shivered. Parseltongue was a fascinating language, but when the boy spoke, his eyes darkened and his pupils turned to slits like a snake's. He turned away instead.

"Potter, I thought your Patronus was a stag. That's what came bursting out at me in third year and nearly killed me." Potter flushed a little and laughed, obviously remembering Draco's failed Dementor prank.

"It's changed since… since the Battle." Ah, one of those forbidden subjects then. Now Draco was curious, but he was too polite to ask. Luckily, Teddy had no such scruples.

"Show him your 'Tronus Charm, Daddy! Let Draco see!" Potter flushed even more, but couldn't refuse when Reggie's quiet voice joined in.

"Oh, alright." The boys cheered and backed away, clearing a space. Potter must do this regularly, then. "_Expecto Patronum!_"

_Well, this is interesting._

-0-

Harry's dragon Patronus was huge and nearly solid, like it always was when he used the memory of his first look into Reggie's eyes. It was the only good memory he had of that month. Reggie was the only good thing he got from his… experience.

Malfoy studied the Patronus as it circled around him, teeth bared, studying him back. Eventually it stopped directly in front of him, paused a moment, then lowered its snout to his brow before fading away. It was a moment longer before Malfoy turned to him with a questioning eyebrow raised.

"Do you know how much power you need to have a Patronus be a magical creature? The only thing more rare is someone who's Animagus form is a magical creature." Potter looked down, embarrassed.

"That is my Animagus form," he mumbled, pulling at his fingers.

Draco was floored. He sat back down and allowed himself a moment to take in just how much magical power Potter had. _He must be the most powerful wizard since Merlin himself! _Draco had never seen a hint of it in six years of school together, either. He thought a second longer, then smirked.

"A dragon, Potter? Is there something I should know?"

Potter blushed but met his eyes with a direct stare.

"It's not what you're thinking. Dragons form very close family units, and mates bond for life. That was a Hungarian Horntail, same as I faced in the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament. They have the strongest bond between parent and child and are known for being the most protective of their offspring." Clearly Potter was not about to be teased.

Another hissing noise distracted them. Potter crouched down and extended his arm toward the second snake as it slithered out from under the couch. This one was also a silvery color, but had a stripe of black down the center of its back. Its eyes were black as well, deep pools of shadow that turned to Draco as the tongue flicked out, tasting his scent on the air.

"Malfoy, this is my familiar, Severus."

"Why Severus?" Why would Potter name his familiar after a man he hated?

"The eyes," he answered simply. That was true. Only Severus had eyes that dark and empty, with such a cold stare. "He's also not afraid to tell me off if I need it. He's the first one I found since the Battle who would. Snape wouldn't stand for idiocy in his class, and I needed someone to not let me be an idiot now." He gave a tiny smile, just one corner of his mouth. "He even called me a dunderhead when we met. How could I name him anything else?"

Draco was glad someone else remembered his godfather and mentor as more than a spy or Dumbledore's killer. Severus Snape was more than his roles. He was a man. Somehow, that idea had gotten lost in the War.

All in all, Draco decided this new Potter wasn't so bad.


	3. Chapter 3

After all the introductions, Potter had taken the boys outside to play in the garden. Draco had opted to explore the house when Potter asked if he wanted to come.

"Ok, have fun then. You're free to look anywhere you want, except the fifth floor. The only thing up there is my room, and no one's allowed in there, not even the boys."

Draco thought that a little extreme, but figured Potter was strange like that. He probably had nightmares, just like everyone else in the War did. Draco had woken in tears many times himself. It was embarrassing, something he didn't want his family to see.

Draco started out in his room. It looked to be the largest guest room, or an old unused room for a younger son. It was nicely furnished in Slytherin colors, with pale grey silk on the walls and deep green velvet hangings on the bed and windows. The two windows looked out over the gardens behind the house. There was also an attached bathroom with a shower and a claw-footed tub, a courtesy he hadn't expected.

He wandered down the halls, poking his head into rooms as he went. His bedroom was on the fourth floor, along with Teddy's and Reggie's. Teddy's room must once have belonged to Sirius Black, the only Gryffindor in the family, since it was done up in bright shades of red and gold. Toys cluttered the floor, and on the wall there was a picture of a tired but happily waving Lupin and a young women with pink hair he assumed was his cousin Nymphadora.

Reggie's must have had Regulus Black's old room. The colors were the same as in Draco's room, with grey silk and velvet hangings, but there was also a faded Slytherin banner on the wall, along with and old picture of a Quidditch team dressed in green and silver. The caption listed the slight, dark haired boy in the center with the Cup as Regulus Black, Seeker. A child's broom was propped in the corner. Unlike Teddy's room, Reggie's was clean and tidy.

Draco continued to explore the house. The third floor had mostly guest bedrooms and appeared completely unused. The first floor, which he had seen earlier, had only the entry hall, a formal parlor, Floo room, and kitchen. The second floor, however, contained all the workspaces and more general use rooms. Along with the sitting room he had met the boys in, Draco found a potions lab, several offices including Potter's, with papers on the desk and an empty perch for a bird that was away, a couple shielded ritual rooms and a dueling chamber. At the end of the hall was archway with a small staircase that led to the library, a circular room several stories tall with a spiral staircase in the center to reach the upper story. That was where Potter found Draco several hours later, browsing the books.

"I thought I might find you in one of the labs, already setting up an experimental potion or something," he chuckled. He seemed to be alright with Draco thumbing through ancient tomes belonging to the Black Inheritance. Draco wondered why that was. Just what made this Potter so different from the hot-tempered boy with a hatred of pure-bloods he had known at school?

"I didn't want to impose," he answered off-handedly. "I would like to have use of one of the labs, if you would allow it."

"Of course, Malfoy. I hardly brew anyways. I may be a decent brewer now, but I still hate it," he rubbed the back of his head and gave Draco a lopsided smile that did funny things to Draco's stomach. "Residual feelings from school, I guess."

For the life of him, Draco could not figure Potter out. He acted like he was happy to have Draco in his home, like he was a long lost cousin or an old friend. Where had his mortal enemy gone?

"Why?"

-0-

Harry frowned.

"Why what?"

"Why are you acting this way? You're my prison guard for the next two years, my jailer. Why be so… so nice? Merlin, Potter, you're acting like we're friends or something!"

_Ah. _That's right, Malfoy hadn't seen him since the Battle, except for the day he gave his testimony. He didn't know what had happened during the Battle and during the… and after the Battle. Malfoy didn't know how much his values had changed in those two years, how much everything had changed, other than gaining two children and a slew of noble titles. He was still trying to reconcile this new Harry with the one from school: the brash, short tempered Gryffindor boy against the calm, protective, single parent.

"A lot has changed, Malfoy. I've changed. The way I was in school… that's not the way I want to be. Being a Gryffindor, honest and courageous in every moment of life, that won't help me in the real world. Not in my world, anyways.

"I don't know if we're friends. It's really up to you, since it takes two people to maintain a friendship. But I don't want to be enemies. I can't treat you as an enemy if I trust you with my children. They mean everything to me, and I will do anything to protect them. At the very least, we're family, of a sort." Malfoy looked dubious at that statement. Harry huffed. "C'mon then, if you don't believe me."

Though locked a door at the top of the library stairs was the heritage of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Harry tapped it with his wand, murmuring the password: "_Toujours Pur."_

Inside, he led Malfoy to the Tapestry Room, which contained the Black Family Tapestry and the portraits of the last Lord and Lady Black, Orion and Walburga. Harry had made his peace with the Lady Walburga Black shortly after moving in to Grimmauld Place. It had been she, in fact, you taught him most of the old noble and wizarding genealogy he knew. Harry pointed to the name Cygnus Black III, and followed the line through Narcissa Black Malfoy and Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and down to Draco Lucius Malfoy.

"There. You're a scion of the House of Black. By blood if not by name. As Lord of this house, I claim you as part of my family."

Malfoy touched a finger gently to his mother and father's names.

"But you don't even have enough of the blood to be on here, Potter," he said softly. Harry shook his head.

"Wrong. I'm on the Tapestry, even if I don't have the blood." He moved his finger back to Cygnus, then over to his brother Orion Pollux Black, the elder son, and traced a new line, one he knew by heart. This one went from Orion and Walburga to their younger son Regulus Arcturus Black. Harry stopped there, on the curious circular formation of the names of Reggie's fathers. He was hesitant to point it out to Malfoy, but Harry hoped he didn't know who the third name truly was.

"Thomas Marvolo Riddle, Jr. Is that…?"

_Damn. _

-0-

Draco was horrified. Tom Riddle. Lord Voldemort. Reggie's third father was the Dark Lord himself.

"How-"

"Don't. Finish that question." Potter's voice was as cold and sharp as a steel sword. "I've told you all I'm willing to about the circumstances of Reggie's birth. He knows he can't tell anyone about even having three sires, much less who the third is. It's unheard of and frankly should be impossible. It would have been, if Tom and I didn't have such magically powerful-" He abruptly shut his mouth and shook his head. "Just… don't ask, alright?"

"Ok." Draco was burning with curiosity, but he knew prying would get him nothing but a very angry host.

Potter turned back to the Tapestry, tracing the circle of names softly, lost in memories for a moment.

"Kreacher," he called.

"Yes, Master."

"Show Mr. Malfoy to the kitchen. We'll be eating in there tonight. I'll be down shortly, I wish to speak with the Lady Walburga first." He turned and bowed slightly to a portrait of an older woman with a haughty demeanor and some vestiges of youthful beauty, who smiled kindly at him.

"Very well, Master. If Mr. Malfoy would follow Kreacher please," the old elf bowed to Potter before leading the way out of the room.

-0-

Talking with Walburga always cheered Harry these days, a drastic change from when the Order had lived in Grimmauld Place. After the death of both sons, she had become despondent. When Harry brought Reggie home and introduced him as her rightful grandson, she had been overjoyed. It had only helped that Harry needed someone to tutor him in noble history and etiquette.

Harry was glad she had come around. Reggie needed to know his family, and Orion and Walburga were the only relatives he could speak to, besides Harry. His other fathers were long dead. One grandfather was a Muggle, one grandmother a Squib who had never sat for a portrait. All the portraits of Harry's family had been lost in the destruction of Potter Manor during the first War, while his parents had been in hiding.

Reggie, Teddy, Harry. None of them knew much about their families. They would make a new family together.

Malfoy was quiet all through dinner, clearly thinking about all he had learned that afternoon. When the boys finished and ran off to the gardens again, Harry stayed with him in the kitchen and had Kreacher put on a pot of coffee for them. Even without Legillimency, Harry could see the questions tumbling through his mind. After a long moment of staring into his coffee, Malfoy found his voice.

"You said you needed me to help out if I stay here. I assume you meant with the boys?" Harry nodded.

"Yeah, if you had proved trustworthy. If my dragon accepts you, you must be alright," he grinned at Malfoy. "I'm gone all day most days for the next few months. I leave them with the elves, but you saw how well that goes over sometimes," another grin. "I can't count the number of times Kreacher or Winky has had to call me home in the middle of the day because of one of their fits. They like you, so I'm hoping they'll accept you as family enough while I'm gone. If that's alright with you?"

"That's fine. I can't let you treat me like family without doing something for you, too. I can't promise how good I am with children, though. I've never had to take care of any."

"You'll be fine. You can help Reggie with his flying. He wants to be a Seeker, just like Regulus and I were. You could take them both up to the library and read to them, or teach them about Potions. They both love to learn, but I'm not the best for Potions work. Or tell Reggie stories about being a Slytherin. He's guaranteed to be Sorted there. Teddy's likely to be a Gryffindor, and he loves my stories, but I can't do the same for Reggie." Harry looked down, slightly ashamed at his lacking as a parent. "There's a lot I can't do for them. I was raised by Muggles, so I have no idea how to raise a child in the nobility and teach them our ways." He snorted. "Hell, I was taught by a dead woman's portrait! Lady Walburga's a fantastic help, especially with Black Family history, but she's a little… out of date, shall we say."

"Of course." Malfoy touched his arm gently. "I'll do what I can. I'm just so grateful to you for agreeing to this… arrangement. I don't think I could have made it back out of Azkaban, not really." He was quiet for a moment, then: "So what do you do during the day? Do you have a job? I always figured you as one to have some work or 'real occupation,' never content to just be a Lord."

"I spend all day at the Ministry. I'm working with a few key members of the Wizengamot on some major reforms, especially on the care of magical children without parents. The War left a lot of orphans, and they shouldn't be raised by Muggles. I was, and so was Tom. It didn't do any good for either of us." Harry laughed. "I used to not think much of pure-bloods who didn't work, but that was before I became the single most important member of the Wizengamot. It's like working two jobs, and add the boys to that?" he shook his head. "Just no time and no need for one more."

"The most important…? Merlin, Potter, just how many titles do you hold?"

Harry sighed. He hated that question. Wasn't it enough to be the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, and the Savior of the Wizarding World? Adding more made him seem arrogant and self-important. He didn't want to answer Malfoy out loud, it made him feel like a braggart, so he waved his wand and conjured one of his business cards, handing it over for Malfoy to read.

**_Lord Harridan James Potter, Earl of Gryffindor_**

**_House of Potter_**

**_House of Black_**

**_House of Peverell_**

**_Regent, House of Gaunt_**

**_Earl Regent of Slytherin_**

"You're an Earl?! I didn't know we still had those in the wizarding world!" Malfoy's eyebrows had gone up so far they disappeared into his pale fringe. "What's it mean, 'Regent'?"

"Those titles don't belong to me by blood. They belong to Reggie. Rather than have the estates held in stasis, I hold them in his stead until he turns seventeen. That way, I can make business decisions. The title may be grand, but the last ones to claim the Slytherin title was the House of Gaunt and they wasted every Knut of the Gaunt and Slytherin fortunes and I've no idea if there are any properties left." Harry rubbed his forehead, right across the famous, faded scar. "The boy'll be a bloody Earl while he's still in school, the least I can do is make sure he has something to live off of."

"The least you can do? Potter, you've changed your life for these boys. It sounds like you're doing everything you can and then some." Malfoy gave him searching look. "Go to bed, Potter. You look exhausted." Harry snorted.

"Gee, thanks, you're so kind." He got up and stretched out his back. "But I think I will turn in. Kreacher will wake you for breakfast in the morning, so I'll see you then before I go to the Ministry." Harry moved to leave, but turned back at the doorway. "You know, Malfoy, having you around may turn out better than any of us expected." He shrugged. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

As Harry walked down the hall, he heard a quiet return of, "Goodnight, Potter."


	4. Chapter 4

Draco woke to shouting.

_Ah, that sounds more like a house with Potter in it._

Too curious about the noise and discontent in the previously calm Grimmauld Place to bother with getting dressed, Draco padded down the hall, barefoot and pajama-clad, following the noise to the Floo Room he had seen the day before. The door was shut and Kreacher was stationed outside, rather oddly like a guard.

"What's going on?"

The elf bowed as the shouting paused momentarily.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Ron Weasley and Mrs. Ganger-Weasley are here. They are angry at Master for housing Mr. Malfoy."

That explained the shouting. Weasley had never liked Draco, and apparently Potter's decision to be custodian was not approved by the redhead. Never mind that Potter outrank even Draco, much less the youngest son of the House of Weasley, and that Potter was a parent now and perfectly capable of making his own decisions like a big boy.

"May I go in?" he asked the elf, unsure if Potter would lock him out. The elf just bowed and gestured for Draco to follow him into the room.

"Master, Mr. Malfoy is here, sir." The elf bowed again before he shut the door with a snap.

Potter had his back to the door, facing the two Weasleys. His face was a calm, cool mask, much like Lucius had worn on many occasions when showing his anger would hinder rather than help. His hands were tucked casually in the pockets of his fine robes, but his spine was rigid with defiance. Without his schoolboy glasses, Potter's cold stare cut to the bone. Draco wondered how Weasley was still standing. Maybe he was used to it.

Weasley was just in front of the hearth, face red with shouting and fists clenched by his sides. Granger stood off to the side of him, looking accusatory but a little weary at the same time. Both of them were also dressed in formal work robes, but not nearly as nice as Potter's. _But they're not members of the Wizengamot._

"You!" Draco's entrance served as a new place for Weasley to point his anger. "What are you doing here?!"

"I live here now," Draco sneered, "courtesy of Potter, as you might have heard. Took this option over a cell in Azkaban with my father." Potter shot Draco an annoyed look, letting him know his manner was doing nothing to diffuse the redhead. _Too bad, Potter. A Malfoy woken with shouting is not a Malfoy inclined to be polite to people lower than him. _And the youngest Weasley son was a lot lower than Draco, even as a criminal.

"I'd have chucked you in prison before I let anywhere near my house, Ferret," Weasley shot back. "How could you take him in, Harry? He'll probably attack you in your sleep!"

"Merlin's sake, Ron, he doesn't have a wand! The Wizengamot gave him all kinds of rules in his sentencing. He can't even give orders to a house-elf!" Potter stopped, pulling his emotions back under the calm mask. "It's good for us both to let him stay here. He stays out of Azkaban, and while I'm at the Ministry he can watch-"

"You can't seriously trust him with Teddy!" Granger burst out.

"Yes, I can. I need someone to-"

"But he's a Death Eater! He's Marked, and you trust him with your CHILD?" Merlin, Granger was going to keep harping on this thing, wasn't she? He wondered why they talked like Potter had only one son. What about Reggie?

"My dragon trusts him. If he betrays that trust, he'll beg for death long before I give it to him." Draco shivered at Potter's cold tone. What did that mean?

"Oh, your dragon, huh?" Weasley scoffed. "The fact that your Patronus didn't try to bite his head off like he deserves means nothing! He's slimy Death Eater scum! He's got the Dark Mark!"

Draco could almost hear Potter's mask, and his control over his magic, shatter. The flames in the hearth roared up, but the room turned cold enough for them to see their breath. The amount of power running through him caused his eyes to glow brightly, while the magic running through the room forced Draco to his knees and the other two to back up and hold the wall for support.

"My dragon knows more about trust and family than you ever will, Ron," Potter said in a low, growling voice that made the hair on Draco's neck stand up, "and the Mark is nothing more than a scar now. I've got more than enough scars of my own now. You've overstayed your welcome this morning. Get out, and owl before you visit next time."

Weasley opened his mouth to say something just as he and Granger disappeared with a pop. Potter dropped to his hands and knees, visibly straining with the effort to pull his wayward magic back to him. After long seconds of silence the flames died, the glow in his eyes dimmed, and the room returned to its normal temperature. He turned towards Draco, but didn't meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Draco just stared.

Uncomfortable, Potter muttered something about the Ministry and disappeared through the Floo.

-0-

Harry couldn't believe he'd let his control slip again like that. He'd almost had a repeat of the last time. No wonder Malfoy had looked terrified. If he hadn't made the wards throw Ron and Hermione out, he could have destroyed the center of his home and killed everyone living there. He knew what happened when he let his magic go free…

He hadn't let himself think about what happened all day. The Wizengamot was a political arena, and he needed all his focus to play the game. He was in the middle of a subtle bargaining for support with Lord McFare on his move to reform some of the Heir Laws. Harry had eaten lunch with the older Scotsman, casually remarking on how giving all the titles to the Heir seemed to show favoritism to the eldest son. McFare, Harry knew, held two titles, but had only become Heir after his two older brothers died in an outbreak of Dragon Pox before they married and had sons of their own. Both titles would have gone to his oldest brother otherwise. He hoped this ploy would work to bring the man over to his side before the full Court in Midwinter.

Now, though, he was tired after the long day of game-playing, his bones ached from the effort of recalling his power that morning, and he just wanted to go home to his sons.

The only thing stopping him from running for the nearest Floo was the thought of answering more questions from Malfoy.

_Get over it, Potter. Everything you've been through, and you can't face one nosey houseguest? Please._

Harry gritting his teeth, but packed up his work and Apparated home.

Only to find Malfoy waiting for him in the entrance hall. He ground his teeth together and clamped down on his temper.

"I need tea. Whatever you're about to say or do can wait until I'm in the kitchen with a cuppa in my hands." Malfoy crossed his arms, but he nodded as Harry stalked past him into the house.

He managed to wait until Harry had had his first swallow of tea before he spoke.

"You're sorry?! You show off all that power, the wards on your house FORCIBLY Apparate Granger and Weasley out, and the only thing you can think of is that you're SORRY?"

"What else should I say? I started to lose control! What should I say, 'Look Malfoy, I'm a bomb! Isn't it just grand?'" Sarcasm dripped from his last words.

"I'm sorry I got caught up in it all, but the LEAST you could have done is stayed and explain it to me! I have to live here too now, some warning would be nice before you blow us all sky high!"

Harry's grip on his anger slipped, and the tea cup he was still holding shattered in his hand, followed an instant later by all the dishes in the cupboards. Acting on instinct, Harry pulled Malfoy toward him and threw up a shield to deflect the bits of porcelain flying towards them. When the air cleared, he pushed him away and dropped to the floor, head cradled between his arms, desperately pulling back his magic and his temper.

Kreacher appeared and began repairing the cabinets. Not wanting to look a Malfoy again, Harry turned and watching the elf work.

"Can you fix the dishes, Kreacher?" The shook his head.

"No, Master. The dishes are too broken. Master must buy new ones."

_Damn it. _He hadn't shattered all the dishes at once since that first year after the War, and he wasn't looking forward to buying new ones again. Malfoy took a deep breath behind him.

"I'm sorry, Potter. I shouldn't have confronted you like that."

Harry didn't acknowledge him, still waging an internal war. Twice in one day he had let his power out, and this second time it refused to return to him. Too much had built up for him to control it, he needed to drain it off somehow instead.

_Severus,_ he called out to his familiar in Parseltongue, _I need the bite._

_Yes, Brother,_ the snake responded as he slithered into the room and toward Harry's still-crouched form. Harry extended his right arm and, while Malfoy watched, allowed the snake to sink his fangs deep into his wrist. The venom began to burn immediately, and the world turned blissfully blank.

-0-

Draco looked on in shock as Potter let his snake bite his wrist and pump his body full of poison.

"What the hell?!" he cried, rushing over to Potter as he collapsed. The elf stopped him before he could touch the man.

"Mr. Malfoy must not touch Master. Mr. Malfoy can still be hurt by Master's magic."

"Does he have a death wish?! Why did he do that?!"

"Master's magic is too strong for him. Master lets his snake bite him sometimes. Master's magic burns the poison out and he can control it again."

That… actually made sense. Potter couldn't pull his power back again, like he had that morning, but it was too dangerous to let go. Having his snake bite him would force his magic to protect him by burning the venom out, but it would also drain his magical core. His power would be weak for a few days, and he could get it under control again then.

Draco followed the elf as he levitated Potter up the stairs. Half way up the staircase to the fifth floor, the elf stopped him.

"Mr. Malfoy must stop here. Mr. Malfoy is not permitted on the fifth floor. Kreacher must raise the wards to hold in Master's magic."

Draco sensed the shift in power that was the wards going up. Tentatively, he reached out a hand. It stopped at a smooth, invisible surface rising up from the stair in front of him. He ran both hands over the cool, solid air, feeling the thrum of power through them.

These were war wards, not just family or blood wards. These would protect from almost any attack, and they were the strongest war wards he had even seen.

_Just what the hell is going on with Potter?_


	5. Chapter 5

Harry drifted back out of the blackness slowly. Everything ached: his head, his muscles, his very bones. But the ache was worth it, when he felt how his magic had been drained to heal him from Severus's venom. He knew it was extreme, forcing his magic to save him again and again, but he swore he would never let his power loose again. Not after the death and destruction of last time.

He sat up in bed and spotting Kreacher, sitting on his usual chair next to the cupboard door.

"Kreacher," he croaked out through a very dry throat, "what time is it?"

"Almost midnight, Master." Harry nodded as he got up and stretched. He'd been out about six hours, then. He was sure Winky had fed everyone and put the boys to bed. Awful as it was, it was almost a routine for the residents of Number 12. Winky knew she had to deal with the boys on her own each time, since Kreacher was needed to raise the wards on Harry's room. They could only be raised from the inside, and not even a house-elf could pass through them.

Harry changed into pajamas and lowered the wards, intent on getting to the kitchen and eating as much as he could handle.

Or he would have been, if Draco Malfoy hadn't been seated in the middle of the stairs, waiting for him.

"This better not take long, Malfoy, I'm hungry enough to start eating you if I have to," he grumbled, crossing his arms. His posture screamed annoyance.

"How often do you have to do that?"

"About every month or so, now." Harry extended his right arm and showed Malfoy the newest puncture scars on his wrist. "More if it's a very high stress time at work. Right after the War, when the papers were going after me and I hadn't gotten any real control over my temper yet, it was about once a week." He pushed his sleeve up a little to show the myriad of silvery circles on the underside of his forearm. "It's the only thing so far that works."

Malfoy had a loose grip on his wrist and an expression of shock on his face. He touched the newest scars lightly, as if afraid of hurting Harry. It didn't, but he fought back a shiver at the odd feeling.

-0-

Draco couldn't speak. He couldn't even think to count the number of puncture scars on Potter's arm. He pushed the sleeve up to the elbow and ran his fingertip across the scars in its crook. There weren't nearly enough marks there to match up with the dozens of times Potter said he had been bitten. Draco grabbed Potter's left wrist as well, see if there were more marks there, only to have it ripped away from him.

"Don't." Potter's voice was flat and cold as ice, but his expression was pained. "I won't ask to see your left arm, and you won't ask to see mine." He pulled his other arm free of Draco's grasp and walked past him. Draco stayed put, lost in thought.

Of course Potter didn't ask to see his left arm. He knew that's where Draco's Mark was. He could hardly not know, since it was the whole reason Draco was living in his house to begin with. But why was Potter's left arm such a sore point for him? It couldn't be because… Draco's whole being shied away from the idea that Potter had ever taken the Mark. He was the Savior, the Boy-Who-Lived. His mission in life had been to kill that bastard, not bow to him. Lucius had said once, on a night near the end of the War when he had been rather drunk, that Potter had refused to bow to the Dark Lord in the graveyard during the Third Task. He even threw off an Imperius Curse, just because he didn't want to play the bastard's mockery games before a duel.

So what was on his arm?

Draco sighed. Another question he couldn't ask Potter. He was tired of all these damn questions. Why couldn't Potter just be straight-forward for once?

Then he had an idea. A game meant for getting to know someone, a way to ask questions: Twenty Questions. It was a Muggle game, but Potter was raised by Muggle, so surely that would be comforting, right? The only downside was that Draco would have to answer twenty questions from Potter, but if it got him more information he would deal with it. He went down to the kitchen to propose the idea to Potter.

"Fine, but only ten questions, five each and we take turns. You ask a question, I'll answer it as truthfully as I can or I pass, then I ask and you do the same." Draco could agree with that. While Kreacher was making tea, he thought about his first question.

-0-

"Where did all that power come from? You didn't have much more magic than the rest of us in school?"

"I got most of it when I went through my maturation after the Battle. It should have happened when I turned seventeen, but the stress of the War and spending a year starving and on the run delayed it, along with… other factors. Why did you ask me to take you in?"

"No one else in the Order would have. I didn't think anyone would, but then I remembered that you testified at the trial and thought you might be my only chance to escape Azkaban. You're a Parselmouth. I haven't heard of anyone outside the House of Slytherin who could. Where did it come from for you?"

"The Peverells. It's an ancient gift, and a Dark one, but it's been kind of diluted through the Potter line. Too much Light, I guess. I'm the first Potter who can speak Parseltongue in centuries. Most of the Gaunts were speakers, but their family was Dark. The fact that Slytherin was a speaker is really surprising, in fact. For all his value on blood purity, he was actually a pretty Light wizard, or at least on the Light end of Grey. Do you regret taking the Dark Mark?"

"Every day. Even before I did it. That bastard was insane. He didn't have any humanity left. I couldn't show it, though. He would have killed me. I may believe in blood purity, but even then I didn't like how he did things. If you're the first in centuries, does that mean you're a Dark wizard?"

"Not Dark, just Grey. I believe in the balance of magic. There's a lot of power in both sides, so I practice them equally. I was never Light, not even before I knew about magic. Not after the night Voldemort tried to kill me. What happened that night meant I never had any chance of being Light. I just can't really spread it around. The papers would have a field day, saying the Savior of the Light had gone Dark. For the public there isn't any sort of balance or middle ground, just good and evil. So you never wanted to be a little Lucius Junior, like how you acted in school?"

"My father… had a lot of influence on my ideas, especially when I was younger, but… He was a bit extreme. He contradicted himself a lot too. He would teach me all these important 'Malfoy ideals,' but then he wouldn't follow them. 'Malfoys have the purest blood and only marry pure-bloods,' except my grandfather Abraxas married a half-Veela, so father and I are both part-Veela. 'Malfoys are superior and bow to no one,' but he goes and gets himself bound to a madman and bows and scrapes every time his Master is near. 'Malfoys are powerful wizards,' but he can't even cast a Patronus, something you mastered in as a third year! What happened to keep you from being Light? Plenty of Light wizards have wanted revenge."

"Do you know what a Horcrux is?"

"No. And you just used up your next question."

"That's fine, I'm sure you're more curious about me than I am about you."

"Probably true. Now answer the question."

"A Horcrux is some of the darkest magic. It's Black magic, actually, because it requires death. It is an object that holds a piece of a wizard's soul. As long as the Horcrux is safe, the wizard cannot be killed. An object with a sentient soul piece inside is dangerous and Dark on its own, but to split the soul requires murder, which makes it Black magic. Somehow, when Voldemort was a student, he learned about Horcruxes. They appealed to him, so he… went a bit overboard. Most wizards with Horcruxes have only one or maybe two; he tried to split his soul into seven pieces. He made his first while still in school. The last was supposed to be made when he killed me. The worst murder, killing an innocent child. When the Killing Curse reflected back to him, it split his soul. He didn't notice, he didn't mean to, but his soul was so shattered already that it happened easily. He fled, but the soul piece stayed and attached itself to the only object it could: me.

"My magic accepted the piece as my own, for the most part. It was so dark that it tainted my core, and that's why I can't be Light. It let me be a Parselmouth. I also used a lot of power unconsciously protecting it, which is why I didn't seem all that powerful in school. With it gone, a lot of my magic has been… freed up for me to use. It had a lot of Dark magical power in it, which I still have. It may have also been responsible for the famous temper I had, though I've heard my mother was the same way. Do you think you can stay here, knowing I've got secrets, and put all the rivalry we had in the past behind us? It was school boy stuff, and it would only make us both miserable now."

"Yes, I think I can do that. That was your last question, you know, since you asked me if I knew what Horcruxes were earlier. When Granger and Weasley were here, they were yelling about Teddy, but not Reggie. Why just Reggie?"

"They don't know about Reggie. No one else living does, except you, since I could hardly keep my son a secret in my own home for two years."

-0-

Early in the morning, as the sun was rising, Draco lay in bed, lost in thought.


	6. Chapter 6

After their game of questions and answers, Harry was afraid he might have revealed too much of himself. Since he had returned to Grimmauld Place with Reggie, secrets and lies had been the only way he had lived. He hadn't told anyone anything about Reggie, and he had just told nearly all of it to Draco Malfoy, of all people! When he had adopted Teddy into his family, he had to be even more careful. Teddy was young, he might accidentally tell someone about his brother. No one was allowed to babysit when he was away except for the elves. When Ron and Hermione came over, Kreacher took Reggie and hid him away in his room. They never stayed more than a couple hours. No one knew about Reggie.

No, scratch that. One other person knew about Reggie: Charlie Weasley, the dragonologist and Reggie's godfather. Harry's dragon Animagus form had found a sense of brotherhood in the stocky redhead that made him trust Charlie with his biggest secret.

But even Charlie didn't know anything about Reggie's origins. Just that the boy had three fathers, but that Harry refused to let him be judged for the actions of his fathers.

Letting his secret go, telling Malfoy, felt like Harry was going into battle naked. To be a Muggle for a moment, it was like bringing a knife to a gunfight.

Harry resolved to keep away from Malfoy as much as he could. His secrets and lies made up his armor. Malfoy was living with him under house arrest, after all, he wasn't his bloody therapist.

To that end, the only time he spent with Malfoy included the boys: dinner, playing in the gardens, sitting by the fire in the family room with their familiars. When the boys went to bed, Harry went up to tell them each a story and say goodnight, then went straight to his office and worked until he went to bed himself. He didn't give Malfoy any chances to ask any more questions, though the look in his grey eyes was both curious and frustrated.

It worked, too, for almost two weeks. Right up until the night Reggie wanted Malfoy to say goodnight to him as well.

"Daddy, can Draco come up and hear the story too?"

How could he deny his son something so simple?

"Alright, snakeling, Draco can come too." He turned to the blonde, who looked surprised. Maybe he hadn't thought the boys might actually like him after all. "If you to, that is, Malfoy. It's up to you."

"I've no problem with hearing your bedtime story if your son wants me to, Potter."

And that was settled.

When Reggie was all tucked in, Harry sat down beside him on the bed, while Malfoy, after a moment's hesitation, sat in a chair on the other side by the windows.

"Well, Reggie, what story do you want to hear tonight?" Most of the time, neither of the boys cared what story it was, but Reggie sometimes put in requests.

"Tell me about the Peverell brothers, Daddy! And Draco, he hasn't heard it ever!" Harry laughed. Perhaps Malfoy needed an education in their heritage.

"Alright, snakeling. I'll just have to tell it carefully, so Draco can remember it all. After all, it's a big, important story for us Potters."

Reggie giggled at Harry's serious tone. Malfoy just snorted. Harry took a deep breath and started his story.

"This is the true story of the Deathly Hallows. This, Regulus, is the greatest story of the Ancient House of Peverell and its oldest Heirlooms…"

-0-

Draco never though he would actually be fascinated by a story told by Potter, much less a bedtime story, but he was.

Potter's story was about three brothers of the ancient Peverell family, clearly the basis for Beedle the Bard's story _The Tale of Three Brothers_. But Potter's story seemed… more truthful. No meeting Death at midnight, no cursed wand, just powerful wizards and a stupid mistake. He wondered if Beedle had been in the tavern the night the Peverell brothers arrived.

So entranced was Draco that he was almost sad to come to the end of the story. Potter had a nice voice, deep and soothing.

Outside Reggie's closed door, Draco managed to stop Potter before he ran for his office again.

"You tell a good story."

Potter flushed, embarrassed.

"Thanks."

"Was all that really true? The Deathly Hallows being Peverell Heirlooms and all?" Potter fixed him with a hard look.

"Of course. I got that story from Ignotus's journal in the Peverell vault. I still have the Hallows, too. I brought them together in the Battle of Hogwarts, and I will keep them together when I give them to Reggie." He raised an eyebrow, daring Draco to question him. "Is that all? I have a proposal for the Wizengamot to draft." His cool nobleman's mask was back in place.

"I… yes."

"Goodnight, Malfoy."

"Draco," Draco called out on impulse as Potter turned on his heel. The dark-haired man paused before turning back.

"What?"

"Just call me Draco. Teddy and Reggie already do, and so do you when you talk to them. Just call me Draco all the time."

The tiniest hint of a smile broke through Potter's mask.

"Alright. Goodnight, Draco."

"Goodnight, Harry," the blonde called to his retreating back.

-0-

Harry woke to sunshine and almost cried at the unfairness of it all. This day was not supposed to be sunny. It was July 29th. Where was the bloody dismal English weather when you wanted it?

Today, he would not go to work. Today, he would stay home. Today, he would hold Regulus in his arms and remember what a miracle it was to have him at all. Today, he would smile, and he would put off his pain for tonight, after the sun went down. Today, he would look to the future.

But tonight, he would drink to the memory of the past.

-0-

Draco wondered if Potter, Harry, was dying. That could be the only reason he would refuse to go into the Ministry. It was only July 29th, so his birthday wasn't for two more days. But no, he seemed perfectly healthy, though there was something off about him. His smiles, while numerous, were too forced. His laughter, while loud, was shaky. When he though no one was looking, his eyes were sad and his hand wandered to touch his left forearm. _What's he got there? _Draco wondered yet again.

Harry showed all the signs of someone faking it for those around them. There must have been something awful during the War that happened on July 29th, but Draco couldn't think of anything. The Battle had been in May, and Harry had disappeared from the War right after that. Nearly all the Death Eaters were captured or dead by August. It was the un-Marked supporters that were harder to catch. They had kept up small rebellions for over a year after the Battle.

So what was so special about July 29th?

-0-

Harry kept up his charade as well as he could, but when the day ended, so did it. He put the boys to bed without a story and returned to the family room to stare into the fire and wait for Kreacher.

Draco found him there first.

"What's going on with you today, Harry?" The blonde sounded concerned, not something Harry had ever heard in his voice before.

"I'm remembering a death tonight."

"Of who?"

Harry wavered between the need to keep his secrets safe and the urge to share his pain and memories. After all, he remembered, Draco had known him too, and for much longer than Harry had. Years longer. Perhaps he'd even been close to him.

"A friend. A mutual friend." Draco cocked an eyebrow at that. "Kreacher's off getting something special. Care to join me for a memorial drink?"

"Will you tell me who the friend is? Was?"

"After Kreacher comes back."

-0-

As Draco nodded and sat, the elf in question popped into a room with a bottle and two glasses, took one look at Draco, popped away again and returned with a third before leaving. Harry poured three measures of a clear spirit and took two of the glasses, handing one off to Draco and raising the other toward the fire in a mocking silent toast before draining it. Draco stared into his glass, waiting for answers.

"Alright. Ask."

"What is it?"

"Gin. His favorite brand. The only thing we ever drank together."

Draco sipped at his glass of gin. It was good; an expensive brand, then. This mysterious mutual friend of theirs had had money to spend. He wanted to demand a name right off, but he knew that would be all he would get, and Draco wanted the story more than just the name.

"Who was he to you?" Potter closed his eyes for a moment, brow furrowed as he collected his thoughts.

"He was… my Savior, I suppose, just like I am everyone else's. He was the friend I never thought I'd have. He was my… my jailor, and my protector."

"Why do you do all this? Have a day to remember him, pour him a glass of his favorite drink and all?"

Silently, Harry unbuttoned the cuff of his left sleeve and pulled it up. There, where Draco's Dark Mark was, was a tattoo in black ink. The lines ran towards the center from his wrist and his elbow, ink following the veins and arteries. In the middle where the met, they formed the outline of an anatomical heart. The inked organ was beating in time with Harry's heartbeat, expanding and contracting at an even pace.

"I called him my human heart. He made me believe I still had one, even after everything I'd been through. And, I suppose… I suppose he was my first love."

That made Draco more curious than he ever though he could be. Who did Draco know that Harry Potter could have fallen in love with? That was _male? _

"What happened to him?"

"His father killed him. For being a traitor. He killed his only child for betraying the cause he was bound to."

Draco read between the lines. Not just a male, but the son of a _Death Eater_. Harry had fallen for one of the Marked.

"What happened to his father?"

"I killed him." There was no pause, no emotion. Just Harry's flat, cold voice stating a fact. "I killed them all." He threw back another glass of gin before continuing. "With Dark magic, too. I killed them with _his _magic, their Master's." He laughed once without humor. It scared Draco. "Lord Voldemort's final act of madness against his faithful."

Draco though for a long time before he asked his last question.

"What was his name?"

"Theo."


	7. Chapter 7

Draco was telling the boys about his first Quidditch tryouts when Harry came home. He was worried Harry would withdraw from him again after tell him about Theo the night before, but that didn't seem to be the case. Harry had joined them at breakfast and talked happily with them before heading off to the Ministry.

Draco grinned up at him from his back on the floor with Teddy and Reggie when he noticed the stocky redhead behind him. Scrambling, he jumped and started to reach for Reggie. Harry had said that no one knew about him, that the boy stayed hidden. Before he could grab the boy, he ran toward the redhead and threw his arms around his waist.

"Charlie!" he cried. Ah, this was one of the older Weasleys, the dragonologist who lived on the Continent. Draco looked toward Harry in confusion.

"Reggie's godfather," he explained. "The Weasleys always do something for my birthday at the Burrow. Charlie came in a day early and caught me at the Ministry for a chance to see Reggie again." He shrugged.

Reggie and Teddy chattered happily at Charlie all through dinner, bringing a rare smile of content to Harry's face. Draco studied him out of the corner of his eye. Harry's face relaxed when his sons were truly happy. It made him look younger, full of life. It was a huge change from the haunted, tired expression he'd had the night before, when he talked about Theo.

Draco was still trying to come to turns with everything Harry had told him the night before. Theo had been faithful to the Death Eaters, then turned against them. Theo had died at his own father's hand.

Theo and Harry had loved each other.

That bit of information messed with his head the most, though he didn't know why. Was it because that meant Theo had liked guys? Because Potter liked guys? Because Harry Potter, of all people, had fallen in love with a Marked Death Eater?

Because he had a chance with Harry now? Was he jealous of Theo for having a place in Harry's heart, a mark on his skin?

Draco shook those thoughts away and applied himself to his roast. He couldn't think about Harry that way. Potter was his jailer, his guardian, nothing more. Sure, the boys liked him, but that didn't mean he was about to become their other father. He didn't even want that.

Did he?

Harry's knee nudged him under the table, startling Draco out of his thoughts. He looked up into Harry's green eyes, blushing at being caught lost in his head. He firmly told himself that no part of his embarrassment came from his thoughts about Harry.

And it definitely wasn't because of the way Harry licked his lips to catch a stray drop of gravy.

Draco shook his head in response to Potter's raised eyebrow, turning to watch Teddy try to make his hair look like Charlie's. The boy managed a shade of fluorescent orange that made everyone laugh.

-0-

After dinner, Teddy and Reggie went out to the garden with Draco to play. Harry and Charlie moved to the sitting room to catch up. Harry only really saw Charlie once a year, and a lot had happened in the last year.

"So, Lord Potter," the dragonologist smirked, "I hear you're quite the big deal in the Wizengamot." Harry smacked him lightly on the arm, laughing.

"Yeah, well, when have I not been a spanner in the works? Honestly, though, I've got all these titles and mass amounts of money, why shouldn't I use them to change what needs changing? Wizarding Britain's incredibly old-fashioned." Charlie nodded.

"I get that. But, believe it or not, I didn't come here to talk about stuffy old nobles and politicians! I've got a birthday present for you. I figured it's probably best to give you this one in private." Harry raised an eyebrow as Charlie dug in his pockets. He produced a miniaturized leather harness. "It's a dragon harness! I've got it charmed to stay with your dragon form when you shift back, kind of like Animagi keep their clothes with them even when shift back and forth."

Harry took the little harness with a smile. Charlie was the only person outside his little family (besides Draco now) that knew about his Animagus form. He was right, giving him the harness in front of all the Weasleys would have brought awkward questions, especially from Hermione.

"Merlin, Charlie…thank you," he whispered, touched. Charlie grinned.

"I can help you put it on later." He paused, thoughtful. "Does…does Malfoy know? I can tell he knows about Reggie, obviously, but how much else…?"

"Most of it, I guess," Harry shrugged. "He's living here for the next two years, and I hate keeping secrets in my own home. He's taking it all really well. The boys love him. For all he says he's had no experience with children, he's great with them." He smiled. Charlie smirked at him.

"Why, Lord Potter! If I didn't know better, I'd someone had a soft spot for a certain blond Slytherin," he teased. Harry blushed hotly and smacked Charlie again.

"Shut up," he mumbled, "I do not." Charlie just raised an eyebrow, and Harry sighed. "Fine. Maybe a little. It's just…he's not one of those young blokes in the Wizengamot falling over themselves and bowing whenever they see me, or those women who drown themselves in perfume and simper at me, you know? He's…" he trailed off, but Charlie nodded in understanding.

"He's real. I get it, Harry. There's not many out there who see you as Harry, instead of Lord Potter or the Savior or the Boy-Who-Lived. There's nothing wrong with wanting that." He slung a comforting arm around Harry's shoulders. "There aren't many people who would like it, but if you want him, go after him, yeah? It's not about them, it's about you." Harry hugged him.

"Thank you, Charlie."

-0-

Draco stopped dead with his mouth open, words stuck in his throat.

On the sofa, Charlie Weasley was wrapped around Harry, with Potter's head buried in his chest, talking quietly. Draco felt something in his chest pinch and nearly slapped himself.

'Stupid! He's always like the Weasleys better than you! What chance did you have against a dragonologist for a dragon Animagus?'

Charlie spotted him and pulled away from Harry quickly, flushing lightly. Draco held back a growl, and the redhead said something in a low voice to Harry that had him whipping his head around and blushing. Draco decided he was better off not knowing.

"I, um…just, the boys wanted to know if you guys are coming out to play with them or not," he stuttered out, then turned on his heel and fled.

Merlin, he was such an idiot! Generations of Malfoys would be ashamed by his lack of composure, and lusting after Potter! What was wrong with him? He returned to the garden, seating himself (not hiding, thank you very much!) on a bench in a semi-dark corner.

Clearly his not-hiding place wasn't very good, since Potter found him instantly.

"Something wrong tonight, Draco?" he asked, sitting beside him. Rather close beside him, actually.

"No, nothing." Everything. He didn't know.

"Charlie brought his gift with him tonight," Harry explained quietly. "Look, I had planned to have you stay with Reggie tomorrow night but,…do you want to come to dinner at the Burrow?" Draco was caught off-guard by the question. Normally he would want nothing to do with Weasleys, but to show up by Harry's side…?

"Oh! Um, I don't…" he stuttered again, groaning internally at himself.

"I'd like you to come," Harry said seriously, and didn't Draco just lose himself in those eyes?

"They'll yell at you," he argued weakly. "I don't want to ruin your birthday." Harry gave one of those heart-melting lopsided smiles.

"Nonsense! I'll tell them they're not allowed to yell. It is my birthday, after all." Draco laughed.

"Alright, then. But don't say I never warned you!" Harry joined his laughter.

"Great! Now c'mon, I've got something you'll want to see." He rose and grabbed Draco's hand, tugging him off the bench and toward the other three. "Charlie's gift, it's a dragon harness," he explained. "He's going to help me put it on tonight. Remember that dragon I had to fight in the Triwizard Tournament? Well, I'm about to show you something even better!"

Draco laughed at his excitement.

-0-

Harry liked hearing Draco laugh. It was different now, a real laugh, not the mocking one he'd had in school. He felt Draco's hand tighten around his, soft and warm against his callused fingers. This was the kind of moment he could live in forever.

Harry brought there joined hands to rest on the crystal pendant Charlie held out. When both boys had their hands on it, Charlie said the keyword and the portkey whisked them all away.

"Oops, meant to warn you about that," Harry mumbled, ducking his head at Draco's glare.

"Where are we?" he asked, looking around the empty, open hillside.

"Scottish highlands. This is a deserted moor where Harry can change," Charlie answered, removing the Shrinking Charm on the harness. "It's too crowded in London, too many eyes."

"Are you gonna show Draco your dragon, Daddy?" asked Reggie excitedly. Teddy was bouncing around. Both boys thought it was just the coolest thing ever that their Daddy could turn into a dragon.

"I sure am!" He answered with a smile. "Now, you two take Draco and get out of the way, alright?" Teddy immediately grabbed a wide-eyed Draco's hand and started tugging him backwards. Harry chuckled and turned to Charlie.

"Ready?" the redhead asked. Harry nodded.

Reaching down into his core, he pulled up his magic. He wrapped himself in the feelings and instincts of his inner dragon. Magic flowed across his skin, and he felt the tickle as soft flesh shifted into hard scales. The magical fire began to burn in his chest as his bones shifted and grew. He dropped to four legs just as his hands became paws with long, wickedly sharp claws. The top of Charlie's head grew farther away as he reached his final height of twenty-five feet. A shiver ran through him as the change ended and he roared, stretching his wings and blasting a column of fire into the night sky.

He could see Draco staring at him with his head craned back. Reggie and Teddy squealed and laughed, running to climb on his tail. Charlie walked around him, the dragonologist inspecting joints and muscles, touching scales as he went.

"Still in good form, Harry," he decided. "Let's get this thing on you, shall we?"

Harry dipped his head low, crouching so Charlie could levitate the harness over his back. The leather straps expanded to fit as the stocky redhead clambered around, buckling and tightening. At last, he seemed to decide it was perfect, telling Harry to roll his shoulders and rotate his wings. The harness fit snuggly, but didn't pinch anywhere.

"Great! All that's left is a test run," he said. Then he smirked rather evilly. "Malfoy! Ever ridden a dragon?"

Draco went white and started stuttering again. Harry let a growling laugh rumble in his chest. He nudged at the backs of Draco's knees with his tail, making him come closer. Charlie ignored the blond's excuses, heaving him onto Harry's back and tightening the straps on his legs and around his waist. He put the reins in Draco's hands and slapped Harry on the side.

"Off you go!" he shouted, scrambling out of the way as Harry stretched out massive wings and took off, Draco screaming the whole way up.


	8. Chapter 8

It's not that Draco was afraid of heights, _per say_. It was really more of an Oh-Merlin-there's-a-massive-lizard-underneath-me-that-used-to-be-Harry-and-if-I-fall-off-I'll-die kind of moment.

And really, could anyone blame him for screaming? Besides, he stopped the embarrassing squeal when Harry leveled out ten stories up or so. Of course, as soon as he caught his breath, Potter was off doing loops and barrel rolls that had Draco holding onto the straps with white-knuckled hands, heart alternately in his throat and somewhere below his toes.

In retrospect, he probably should have kept screaming.

Harry rolled over and over in a nausea-inducing series of maneuvers, letting out a delighted roar and painting the sky with fire again. Draco whimpered.

After he seemed to get that out of his system, his flying became much calmer. He seemed to being showing off for Draco, executing wide turns and sharp dives that never came close to the ground. It took Draco a bit to understand that he was doing a standard Seeker's warm-up, but he laughed out loud when he realized it.

No wonder Potter always outflew everyone on the pitch. He was meant to be in the air.

Flying with a dragon was so much better than a broom! Harry's steady wingbeat around him, his tail swishing out to complete the sharpest turns he'd ever done, no broom could match the feeling of a living being born to the air.

"Wronskei Feint!" he shouted into the rushing wind. Harry snorted, a short burst of flame from each nostril. He flapped higher, gaining altitude. When the three people on the ground were no larger than ants, he snapped his wings close to his body, rolled over, and dived nose-first toward the ground.

Draco screamed again, this time with a breathless joy, as the hard earth came rushing up to meet them. Suddenly Potter flared his wings out to their full extent, jerking them to a near stop, and landed lightly on four feet. Draco laughed, still shaking with nerves and adrenaline.

"Fantastic flying, Harry!" Charlie called, rushing over to let Draco out of the straps. Harry rumbled in agreement. Draco stood on wobbly legs to watch as Harry shifted back, his rumble turning into delighted laughter.

-0-

Harry felt light, freer than he had in weeks. Flying was what he was meant to do. There were no restrictions on him in the air. Shifting back always made him a little sad. His human body was stuck to the ground, a weak suit of skin easily torn and balance precariously on two legs.

He'd never flown with anyone in his dragon form before. It was surprisingly fun, hearing Draco's reactions to his movements. Perhaps he had shown off a bit, but having a passenger made it more enjoyable.

'Maybe it's just having _Draco_,' a snide voice whispered in his head. He told the voice to shut up.

Draco was a sight for sore eyes, standing on unsteady legs. His eyes were bright, fine blond hair a windswept mess, cheeks flushed attractively. Harry just wanted to kiss him.

What?

-0-

Draco stared at the fireplace warily. Tonight was the dinner at the Weasley house. He wasn't exactly looking forward to it.

But, Harry had wanted him there. So Draco was going.

"Ready?" came Harry's voice from behind him. He chuckled at the look on Draco's face. "It'll be fine. They're not allowed to treat you badly." Draco pulled a face that clearly said he doubted Weasleys would listen to him.

"I reserve the right to say 'I told you so' in the end," he informed him dryly. Harry grinned.

"I'm sure you'll shout it from the roof for the next week if you're right. Now c'mon, we don't want to be late."

"Don't we?" Draco muttered under his breath, hoisting Teddy up on his hip and stepping into the green flames. Harry followed, pulling Draco close with an arm around his waist as he called out for the Burrow.

Somehow, Draco couldn't bring himself care. Almost unconsciously, he leaned forward into Harry's muscular frame as the world spun around them.

Conversation stopped as an entire army of redheads watched the three of them step from the Floo. Draco's nerves came back full force.

"Hey, guys! I brought Draco as my guest tonight, is that alright?" It wasn't a question. Scattered murmurs broke out as people agreed, then conversation began to rise again. Draco let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, well, Draco…dear, it's so nice to see you here," the red-haired matriarch stuttered out. "Harry's never brought a guest before."

"It's lovely to be here, Mrs. Weasley," he replied quietly, falling back on his Malfoy manners. "Harry absolutely _insisted_ that I come."

"Did he now?" A knowing sparkle lit her eye, and her smile became more genuine. Draco wondered what that was about, but was soon swept away into the thick of things.

"Hey there, Wolfling!" cried a scared young man with long hair. The oldest son, he remembered. Attacked by Ferir Greyback on the night he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Draco set Teddy on the floor, averting his eyes in shame.

"Hey Bill, Fleur," Harry greeted. Draco felt a calming brush of fingertips across the back of his neck and shivered. Harry was standing beside him, showing his support in front of his family. He was incredibly grateful, but torn that Harry had to do such a thing at all.

Dinner was still strained, though the kind attentions of Mrs. Weasley and Teddy's excited chatter helped dispel some of the tension. Draco ate heartily, trying to ignore the bitter stares from Ronald, Granger, and, surprisingly, Ginerva. He couldn't recall ever having done anything directly to her, but every time Harry bumped shoulders with him she gave him a heated glare.

After dinner Draco ended nursing a glass of Firewhiskey and polite conversation with Charlie while Harry talked and laughed with the rest.

"I'm glad Harry brought you tonight," Charlie told him. "It's the only time each year his spends with his entire family."

"I'm not sure I really fit into this happy picture," he replied, swirling his drink. Charlie gave him a knowing smile. Honestly, what was it with these Weasleys and their sly looks?

"Oh, I think you're more a part of it than you realize. Or you will be, anyway. You're a good thing for him, you know? Something real in that crazy world of his." The dragonologist tossed back the rest of his drink and stood. "I better get to bed, tomorrow's an early morning. Har', happy twenty-first, mate!"

Harry tossed him a wave and grin from where he stood across the room. Draco took a sip of his drink, watching Harry openly.

His eyes crinkled at the edges with mirth at something Ronald said. He tossed his head back and laughed, the carefree sound rolling through the room.

Draco wasn't the only one watching Harry. Ginerva had hungry eyes fixed on his face. Hadn't they dated in school? Was she trying to take him back? She laid a hand on his chest possessively, and Draco's hand tightened on his glass. She tilted her head up at him, but thankfully he shook her off, stepping back.

"Just gonna get some air, mate, yeah? Let Teddy have some more time with Bill and Fleur before we take him home," he called over his shoulder as he headed toward Draco. "What to go for a walk?"

Draco tossed back the rest of the drink. Oh, what the hell.

"Sure."

-0-

Walks in the moonlight were surprisingly intimate, Harry decided. Just him and Draco and the apple trees, out under the stars. They walked in silence, neither one daring to break the silence.

They ended up in the clearing Harry had played games of two-on-two Quidditch during the summers. He lay on his back in the grass, staring up at the stars.

"The first time I saw the Burrow, I thought, '_that's_ what a magical house should look like,'" he said quietly. Draco stayed silent, seated beside him on the ground. "I grew up without magic, without a family. The Weasleys had both. A house full of kids, gnomes in the garden, a ghoul in the attic. I didn't care that they didn't have money or standing. They were everything I ever wanted."

He was quiet for a long moment, then he laughed softly.

"It feels like I'm justifying them now. They're my family now, but if I'd grown up like I should have, if I'd grown up like _you_ did, would I even talk to them?" He sighed. "Don't listen to me. Too much Firewhiskey, I'm just rambling now."

"No," Draco said, "you're not." He took Harry's hand gently and Harry sat up to face him. "They're important to you. Your past, this family, made you who you are. Don't waste time on what-ifs."

They were face-to-face, so close now. Just a few inches apart. Harry looked into silver eyes, brighter than the moon, and forgot everything he might have wanted to say. There was only them, two left-overs from the great and terrible war, together beneath the stars.

With a monumental effort, he tore his eyes away and pulled back his hand.

"We should get back." He rose, trying to ignore the heartbroken expression in Draco's eye.

Trying, but failing.


	9. Chapter 9

Confusion was too tame a word to describe the state Draco spent his night. Total bewilderment, perhaps. With a big side dish of heartbreak, sprinkled throughout with little dashes of anger.

Harry, on the other hand, seemed totally fine, and didn't that just make Draco worse? He might have even though it was just a disappointing dream and given up hope, if he didn't keep catching Harry staring sidelong at him. Those emerald eyes always flicked away when Draco turned his head, and a light blush would creep onto his neck.

So Draco kept hoping. And waiting.

He dreamt that night of sitting on the grass in the apple orchard under the light of the moon. Every detail was the same as it had happened, but with a much better ending.

_"__Don't waste time on what-ifs," Draco said, holding Harry's hand in his. They leaned closer and closer, drawn together by some irresistible magnetic force they couldn't explain._

_"__Draco…" Harry whispered, his breath ghosting across Draco's lips. His lips followed, sealing themselves to his gently. Draco responded eagerly, bringing his free hand up to rake through messy black hair. He scratched his nails across Harry's scalp, drawing a groan from deep in the man's chest. Harry brought hands to his hips, gripping them tightly, urging Draco's lips open with his tongue._

_He pushed the taller man to his back on the grass, settling his body above the blond's. Harry's mouth moved down across his jaw, nipping at his neck. Callused hands roamed up along his sides and down again._

_"__Harry," Draco moaned as a hand slid along his waistband, dipping fingertips teasingly inside. Teeth pulled at his earlobe, making his gasp and arch when the hand slid back down the front of his trousers to grasp his-_

"What the HELL do you want now?!"

Draco shot up in his bed, hard and gasping. Harry's anger echoing through the house was sufficient to get rid of his little problem as he climbed out of bed to see what the cause of such yelling was.

Harry was back in the Floo Room when Draco peeked through the open door. He had last night's shirt on over sleep pants and was glaring coldly at Granger and Ronald Weasley. Draco hoped this being woken by shouting wasn't going to be a regular occurrence at Grimmauld Place.

"I didn't say anything last night since it was your birthday, but how could you bring him?" Weasley was demanding. Harry narrowed his eyes.

"I wanted him to be there. I trust him. I'm not crazy, I haven't 'gone Dark,' and I'm not kicking him out so he can rot in Azkaban!"

"Harry, please, we just want to talk with you! Can we go sit down and talk about-"

"No." Granger was cut off by Harry's cold reply.

"Harry, I don't think the Floo Room is really the place for a conversation," she wheedled.

"It doesn't really matter where we are since there isn't going to be a conversation. I told you last time you barged in here to owl ahead, and I didn't get any owl this morning. I see you've decided to poke your noses into things that aren't your business again and enter _my_ house without an invitation besides." Harry's posture was rigid, no friendliness in his words or gestures. "I'll be sealing my Floo with a password today and updating the wards. You can either leave now or I can throw you out. _Again_." Weasley's face twisted, red with fury.

"I don't know when you turned into such a bastard, but we're trying to help you! You know Malfoy as well as we do. You can't trust him! Especially with Teddy," he shouted, ushering his wife towards the Floo.

"I would dare say I know Draco better than any of you, and I still trust him. _Especially_ with Teddy," Harry growled back as Weasley stepped into the Floo, and then he was gone.

-0-

Harry slumped as Ron spun in the flames and disappeared.

"You don't have to do that."

He spun to face to door, where the quiet voice had come from. Draco was leaning against the frame in just a pair of pajama pants, staring at him with a curious light in his eye.

"If I kick you out, then you have to go to Azkaban. Unless you'd rather have that?" Harry asked in a weary voice. He hadn't slept well, haunted by the moment-that-could-have-been in the Weasleys' orchard.

"That doesn't mean you have to through your friends out for me. You don't have to _save_ me, Potter," Draco returned evenly. Harry grit his teeth.

"Has it occurred to you that maybe I'm protecting my own interest?" he snapped out before he could stop himself, then flushed. He hadn't meant to betray so much of himself.

It wasn't that he didn't want to like Draco, it was that he didn't want to let himself like Draco. He was the man's guardian, his jailer. He didn't accept custody over Malfoy to become his lover, for Merlin's sake!

Somewhere, deep inside himself, he was afraid of falling in love. He couldn't forget the first man he'd loved and what had happened to him. He would never shake the image of Theo Nott laying broken in that graveyard, empty eyes reflecting the stars. He'd never told Theo he loved him, neither of them had. The situation was too dangerous to admit it, even to themselves.

But here was safe. There was no chance that Draco might have to kill him or torture him under his father's orders. The War was over, done, finished. No one was anyone's prisoner here. Draco was more of a restricted guest than a prisoner.

So why wouldn't he let himself fall in love?

"Oh? And what's your interest here?" Draco's voice was a purr, making Harry's heart beat faster.

"The boys love having you around. You leave and they'll probably go back to throwing fits and making me come home early from the Ministry." He almost felt bad using his sons as an excuse, but it was such a flimsy tale he could tell Draco saw right through it.

"Really?" Draco smirked, walking toward him slowly. Harry found himself being backed toward the wall. "You know, I don't believe that. Much as you love your kids, I think your interests are all. About. You."

-0-

Draco leaned in close, breathing his words across Harry's skin.

"Just admit it," he urged. "Harry…"

The shorter man looked up at him, panic reflected in his wide green eyes. Before Draco could make another move, he turned on his heel and apparated away.

"Fuck!" Draco punched the wall. He'd scared him off for sure. Life was about to get incredibly awkward in Number Twelve.

Awkward didn't even begin to describe it.

For a week, Harry went out of his way to avoid being alone with Draco. He danced away whenever they brushed against each other accidentally. He refused to meet his eyes.

Draco was at the end of his rope. He couldn't stop dreaming of the kiss-that-almost-was, each one turning into a thousand different possibilities that all ended with them pressed together in the grass. He changed for bed, tossing his clothes angrily across the room. He was tired of dreaming of things that never happened, dreams that left him aroused and unsatisfied. He almost wished the nightmares were back.

He should have known better than to wish. The Fates listen in at the worst moments sometimes.

_He was watching the Battle of Hogwarts again. The Dark Lord came up from the forest with the body of Harry Potter, proudly proclaiming him dead. The Death Eaters threw him on the ground in the courtyard and he bounced, limp like a rag doll._

_The Dark Lord gave his speech, then Longbottom gave his own little speech. He swung at the great snake with the sword, but he missed this time. The swing overbalanced him and he fell to the ground. Nagini struck, sinking fangs deep into his neck._

_No, that wasn't right! Draco wasn't supposed to stand there and watch Longbottom bleed out on the flagstones. Longbottom killed the snake, then Harry appeared, this wasn't right!_

_But Harry wasn't moving. His glasses were gone; open, glassy eyes stared up at the sky. Death Eaters laughed mockingly as Longbottom gurgled. They cast spell after spell at Harry's body, making it flop lifelessly. The Dark Lord joined in, cutting him open, setting fire to his body._

_No, it wasn't right! That wasn't how it happened, they won, the Dark Lord died! Harry didn't die, he was alright, Harry was alive!_

_Harry didn't jump up and start dueling. He just lay there, bleeding sluggishly, his clothes burning away. The Dark Lord stepped forward, crouching by the body, hiding it from view. When he stood up again, he held Harry's severed head high in the air. He laughed, high and cold, and his crimson eyes met Draco's._

_Draco screamed._

-0-

The scream echoed through the empty halls of Grimmauld Place. Harry sat bolt upright, clutching one of his knives. The scream didn't belong to Reggie or Teddy, they never had nightmares.

Draco.

Harry didn't think, he just moved, reacting to the terror he heard in the man's voice. He grabbed a shirt, just barely pulling it over his head as he apparated away.

Draco was thrashing, stuck in his dreams, caught in his sheets. Harry caught his shoulder tightly, taking both wrists in one hand to hold him still.

"Draco. Draco! It isn't real, it's just a dream," he said, half soothing, half yelling. "It's not real. Draco, c'mon, wake up! You need to wake up!"

Silver eyes flashed open, roaming wildly across the room. They locked on his, and Draco stilled, panting.

"You're alive," was all he said, then he surged forward, connecting his lips to Harry's.

Harry dropped his wrists in surprise and Draco wove one hand into Harry's hair, clutching at it tightly. The other gripped the back of Harry's neck as Draco kissed him harshly and desperately.

Just as suddenly as he began, Draco broke off. He looked away, face red with shame and embarrassment. He let go of Harry, dropping his hands to twist them in his lap.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I just…nightmare. You died at Hogwarts." His blush spread down his neck and bare chest.

"I-it's fine," Harry stuttered, struggling to catch up with what just happened. He let go of the blond's shoulder. "Shouldn't have woken you like that, but you were screaming and…"

He understood the desperation Draco had felt. He understood the relief he had felt, just seeing his face. He'd had nightmares like that, too. He still had nightmares. He couldn't have a night's sleep without one.

"I…I'll let you get back to sleep." He turned to go back to bed when a pale hand caught his wrist.

"Stay." Draco looked at him with wide eyes, still full of fear. "Just…just until I fall asleep. Please stay."

Harry gritted his teeth at the memories. 'This isn't then,' he told himself firmly. 'Draco isn't Theo, and this isn't Riddle House. This is different, no one will die tonight.'

"Alright."

He climbed into bed next to Draco, wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulders as the taller man curled into his chest. He was still panting, his heart racing. Harry rubbed gentle circles on his back.

"Sleep, Draco, I'm right here."


End file.
